I Am the Doctor
by LovelyFarron
Summary: The Doctor is dead. Amy Pond, the Girl Who Waited, is trying to get over the death of her Raggedy Man but can't seem to get him out of her head. Literally. It's going to take a lot to find out what really happened to him and will be a trial that Amy and another Companion may not be ready to go through.
1. Chapter 1

TV Show: Doctor Who

Genre: Romance/Friendship

Rating: T

I Am the Doctor

1

"Come on, don't give up! Don't give up! Doctor! Doctor!"

Green eyes slowly fluttered open, heeding the cries of the woman so desperately screaming them. Everything was blurry and unfocused, his vision dark around the edges almost as if a candle had been held too close and had set the world on fire inside his mind. The voice that was yelling at him, commanding him to not go, was watery and seemed to come as if from a great distance away. Despite that though, it still managed to split his already fractured mind into a thousand more pieces with its desperation, its fear, its terror.

He frowned as the voice continued crying, screaming, pleading. He knew that voice, yes, he was sure of it. That accent, the words being spoken, the voice itself…It was all so familiar and yet he couldn't place it, couldn't figure out just where it came from or to whom it belonged. If only he could see…

His brow scrunched up in concentration as he tried to focus on the blob in front of him; it was soft and unrecognizable, but something about its vanilla scent, the way its edges were carved, the way one color shone so brightly…it was familiar. He _knew_ this thing, this shape, this form. Maybe if he could touch it, feel its skin beneath his fingertips…

…But he couldn't move.

With a start he realized that his body was unresponsive, that everything below his neck refused to function as it should. Panic surged up from deep within him, nearly overwhelming in its power. He commanded his limbs to move, told his arms to left up and caress the face that was looking down over him, told his legs to stand up. Nothing.

"Doctor!"

He wasn't sure if the voice was calling him—for wasn't his name Doctor?—or calling for an actual one. Either way, he supposed it didn't matter because something was wrong with him and a real doctor, or rather one that could "fix" him, wouldn't be of much help to him. Would they even know Time Lord physiology?

A small grin crossed his face which elicited a gasp from the thing watching over him, cradling him in their lap with their hands running through his shaggy hair.

Time Lord. That's what he was. Time Lord. All of time and space. A madman with a box. A Time Lord from Gallifrey.

Something cold and tiny splashed onto his face and rolled down his cheek. Several more similar sensations followed the one, breaking across his skin and trailing down across his face as if they were coming from his own eyes.

He frowned. What was going on? Just why was he laying there, helpless as a kitten? Why wasn't his body responding? Why was his vision slowly being sucked into a black hole?

He blinked, trying to clear away the blackness that threatened to engulf his sight, only to find that the effort was useless. He tried to sigh but found that his lungs wouldn't fill up with the required amount of air to perform such an action and that was when he felt something else. Or rather, _didn't_ feel something else.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that only one heart skipped a beat—the other wasn't functioning.

"Doctor!"

The Doctor's attention snapped back to the figure above him, holding him in his last moments. Amy. Amy Pond. Amelia Pond.

"Tell me what to do! Doctor!"

Like a tidal wave the memory of what had just happened came crashing over him, clearing away the confusion and even the fear he'd been feeling a moment earlier. He was dying, shot in the heart. No time for regeneration. Bleeding.

There was only one thing left for him to do, only one way left for him to survive, only one way to save Amelia Pond, the Girl Who Waited, from horrendous heartbreak. But she was going to hate him for it later.

A smile spread across his thin lips as he rallied what little strength he had left and raised his left arm. He placed it against his Companion's ginger hair and left it there, a warm touch filling him with calm and peace as she placed her hand against his and nestled into his palm.

"Oh Amy…Amelia Pond…" he rasped, throat dry. "I'm so sorry. I always cause you pain, don't I?"

He felt her shake her head. "No! No, it's alright Doctor! I forgive you! I forgive you!" her voice broke as she cried, sucking in deep breaths as her small frame wracked with agony. "Just please! Please don't go!"

An ache started within the Doctor's remaining heart as she sounded so vulnerable, so unlike the Amy he'd grown to know and love. She was a child again, trusting her Raggedy Doctor to make things better and take her away on adventures to faraway places that only existed in fairy tales.

"Oh Amy…forgive me…" he gasped out, a dread coming over him as he acknowledged what he had to do. He had to do it. For him. For her. For the Universe.

Amy was beyond words at that point, little breaths of air and sobbing noises being the only things that left her open mouth.

Gathering the remainder of his strength, the Doctor forced himself up, putting both hands firmly behind her head and pushing her lips onto his in a rushed, frenzied kiss. Energy sparked when their mouths met, sparkling an eerie yellow that lit the dying Time Lord and human up in its glow.

At some point in the kiss Amy's hands must have made it to his chest because he felt something grip at his white collared shirt and hold him tight, too shocked perhaps at what was happening to push him away. He supposed that at some point he'd been hearing about this from Rory but all that would come later _after_ he was done being "dead."

The energy around the couple began to die away, draining the Doctor of what life was left in him. It had been a nice kiss at least, a good way to go where he was going for a while. It was probably the last nice thing she'd ever do for him too, not that he was complaining.

Their lips left each other and the Doctor fell back. A tingly feeling had spread throughout his body and his vision had been overcome by the blackness. His life flashed by, not so much in words or images, but in sensations. The feeling of regenerating. The hay bale he had walked into against his face. The disgusting foods he had made Amelia Pond cook for him. The smells, the tastes, the energies, the feelings…all of it. It all came at him like some glorious song that exploded throughout his very being from the depths of his soul, recalling everything he had been, everything he was, and everything he had the potential to be.

And then it was over.

By the time his head hit Amy's lap he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Time moved as if it was in slow motion. Salty tears carved paths down her cheeks, falling unheeded onto the Time Lord's face. Her lips were on fire where they had met his, burning and tingling. She could still taste his mouth, could still feel his hands threading through her hair, pulling her face closer to his. She could still feel the life leave his body, could still feel the warmth and spark of energy course through her veins and electrify her as her best friend, her Raggedy Man, died in her arms.

She sucked in a breath, trying to suppress the sobs that wracked her body but only succeeded in making herself choke.

No, this couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Wasn't he supposed to regenerate? Wasn't he supposed to stay alive? He couldn't die! He just…he couldn't!

She squeezed her bloodshot eyes shut, trying to shove the horrible reality from her mind. If she wished hard enough, if she pretended hard enough, if she _believed_ hard enough…maybe everything would just go away. She'd brought him back once before by just remembering him and he'd cheated death numerous times so why should this time be any different? Why should he die now? Why should he be forced to go to the great beyond?

A keening sound broke through her lips which she had pressed tightly together, trying to muffle the crying noises. The tears leaked relentlessly from behind her closed eyelids and her body refused to stop shaking. Her hands were still clutched tightly in his shirt that was no longer white, stained dark red with his blood. She was covered in his life substance, the warm liquid drying and becoming sticky on her flesh and blending in with her bright red top. A part of her was fascinated; Time Lord blood was red like a human's? Then again, he had once said that Time Lords had come first…

_Oh Doctor._

Her eyes opened against her will, his peaceful, sweat-soaked face coming into view. He looked as if he was sleeping but Amy knew that he wasn't. Even if Rory hadn't been a nurse she would have known that when you didn't feel a heartbeat—or heatbeat_s_ in his case—that a person was dead. They couldn't live without the heart doing its thing, pumping blood and making it all run like some well-oiled machine.

Rory would know the technicalities of what had just happened to their dear, dear friend and Amy couldn't help but give a quick, sad smile at the thought of her bumbling man. If only he was here, if only he had been able to save the Doctor. She was useless in this situation, absolutely useless! And she hated it; she hated her weakness, she hated the cries leaving her mouth, the tears running down her face. She hated her inability to stop and look at things logically, to assess the situation and be not _her_ at this moment.

She didn't like feeling like she was that lost little girl again, waiting for her Raggedy Man to come and save her, to pluck her out of her dull, boring, ordinary world and show her the stars and just take her away from the harsh reality of life. To take her away from what she didn't understand and what she didn't know. To give her hope. To give her something that no one else could.

One of her trembling hands managed to detach itself from his shirt and find its way up to his face, gently and almost hesitantly touching his skin.

He was an odd looking man, or rather alien man. She'd never met anyone with such striking features, someone so unique and beautiful. The shape of his chin, the size of his ears, his remarkable nose…everything about him was special, different. Human yet alien at the same time. And she loved him for it.

She bit back the sob that wanted to escape from her and pressed her forehead, damp with sweat, to his, cool with death, and sucked in a choppy breath. Her matted, ginger hair clung to her moist face in irritating ways but she didn't mind in the slightest. She knew her makeup was probably smudged and a mess but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore; not a damn thing.

_Come now Amelia Pond, you're stronger than this._

Amy's head snapped up. Her eyes widened in confusion and darted around wildly, looking for its source. It had come to her like it was on the wind, all translucent and echoey and unable to be caught.

"Who…who's there?" she managed to say, her voice trembling and uncertain. "What do you want?"

There was a slight chuckle, a chill at the base of her neck, and then the most peculiar sensation swept through her body. She jolted, as if struck by lightning, her limbs rigid with adrenaline, as the voice continued.

_Just trust me._

Her mouth, painted with the finest of lipsticks, opened to protest but she found she could not. Her own voice was stuck somewhere in her throat, unable to surface and make known its existence. She tried to force it, but found that the only good that did her was make her gasp and struggle for air.

_No, no don't do that, _said the voice. _Come on Pond! Wake up! Think! Listen! Look! You're in danger!_

As if obeying the ethereal voice's commands, slowly but surely, Amy's senses began to return to her. She hadn't even been aware that they'd been missing until that point but now that they were returning, she realized just how much had been going on without her notice.

The metallic smell of blood. The bite of the cool metal deck beneath her legs. The heavy atmosphere of the ship's gravity pulling her down. The sounds of war—blaster pistols, exploding, screaming, running, dying.

Her brow scrunched up and she forced herself to breathe as she tried to think of where she was and how she had come to be there. Who was it that had shot the Doctor and taken him from her? Where was she? Why was there fighting going on? Who did the mysterious voice belong to?

Her head began to throb in response to the barrage of questions she had thought up and she leaned forward and moaned, her hands gripping her hair in large chunks as if that could stop the pulsating feeling in her mind.

_There's no time for that Pond. If you stay, you'll die! You need to move!_

"NO!" Amy yelled out, finally finding her voice. "I'm not leaving him! You can't make me!" Her hands left her hair and found their way back to the Doctor, gripping his bloodstained shirt tightly once again. "I…I can't!"

A ghostly hand touched her forehead, sending shivers down her spine. It wasn't cold but rather quite warm and perhaps that scared her more than anything.

_I know you can't. But you must. If you don't leave, the Doctor will truly die. But as long as you survive…there is a chance._

"What do you mean, 'as long as you survive'?" Amy bit out. "And who are you? Stop screwing with me! If you can save my Doctor then save him!" One of her hands batted at the invisible hand but much to her chagrin she found that she could still feel its presence. "Leave me alone!"

The voice sighed and the contact she had been feeling vanished. She let out a breath, anger now the predominant emotion within her. How could this voice just expect her to leave? She couldn't just run away and leave his body here on this strange alien ship. She couldn't remember if it was friend or foe, but that didn't matter. They didn't know the Doctor like she did. They weren't his friends, his family. He was dead because of her—of that she was certain—and she couldn't just leave his body behind. Not only was it not right, but she couldn't bear leaving his side.

The Doctor was more than just a man to her or an alien. He was her childhood hero, her dream to keep her company on lonely nights. And now her hero, her dream was dead. She was the useless damsel in distress, the nightmare to counteract his happiness. Of course he had never seen himself in that way, rather seeming himself as a monster, as a bringer of endless despair and destruction, and that was what upset her the most. He had died thinking he was a horrible being, a corrupter of all good things. He had died thinking he only hurt her, not even taking into account the wonders he had opened her up to, the futures he had shown her.

_I'm sorry then, Pond. But I have to do this. Forgive me._

Without her consent, her body began to move. The young woman let out a cry as her body, stiffly and almost mechanically, gently laid the Doctor's body on the metal deck beneath them. His blood had seeped out from beneath him and was making its way towards her legging covered knees but that didn't bother her in the slightest—what bothered her was the utter lack of control she seemed to be exhibiting over her body.

"No!" she cried out, resisting her body's movements. "NO!"

_I'm sorry. This is for both of your goods._

"NO! To hell it is! STOP!" Amy screamed at the top of her lungs, horrified as she began to stand up. "STOP IT! PLEASE!"

Her mind was beginning to go fuzzy, the darkness of unconsciousness calling her. She was terrified, unsure of what was going on. Had she finally lost it? Had the Doctor's death pushed her over the edge? Or was this all some sort of wonderful horrific nightmare she had concocted? Was this what insanity was like? Did you lose control of your body, start hearing voices, and black out as numbness began to spread through your brain?

_Just relax Pond, it's alright. You'll be safe. Just trust me._

Amy snorted. "Right. Like I'm going to trust the crazy voice that is coming from nowhere and is apparently making my body move and leave the Doctor behind."

_Just get to the TARDIS_, the voice said. _And you'll both be fine._

Amy was about to bite back a retort but the brain power to do so suddenly left her. Her mouth flopped open but she did not have the presence of mind to speak. Almost as if she was sleepwalking, half-awake and half-asleep, she began to move away from her Doctor. Some part of her was still screaming and protesting, but outwardly she was dead to the world, an eerie serenity shining from her vibrant eyes.

She walked down corridors, some spattered with blood on their steel colored walls, some pristine and flawless. She stepped over bodies, maneuvered out of the way of running soldiers, and ignored the cries of the wounded and the dying. The smells of death assaulted her nose—smells of alien blood, waste, and innards—but she did not vomit or slowdown in the slightest. It was as if she was in a daze, unable to properly think or operate. She was a phantom, gliding from hall to hall on a strange ship in space, the only think driving her forward being the thought of a peculiar shade of blue.

After some time passed—whether it was seconds, minutes, or hours she didn't know—she reached her destination, that unique blue, and a sense of calmness filled her. She was aware of more movement, of the creak of doors and the shuffling of her own feet and then—blackness.

The last thing she heard was the voice, sincere sorrow and regret in its otherworldly tone.

_Happy Birthday, Amelia Pond. This wasn't the surprise I'd had in mind._


End file.
